


Heartcore

by kj_graham



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Coming Out, Gen, This totally isn't the author projecting pshhhh, because i love the trials ok, brotherly schmoop, trials!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_graham/pseuds/kj_graham
Summary: Sam's been keeping a secret from Dean for years. They finally have a heart-to-heart about it while, true to form, one of them is potentially dying.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Heartcore

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wish I had a Dean Winchester in my immediate family.

There are a lot of things Dean Winchester hates about these trials. He hates that Sam is suffering. He hates that _he_ isn’t the one tackling this whole thing. He hates that they’re sitting ducks until Kevin can translate the third trial.

Mostly, he hates that Sam is dying. With every passing day it’s becoming clearer and clearer to the both of them that Sam’s chances of survival are dwindling. Fast.

Sam seems to be taking it in stride. He’s very calm about the whole thing; Dean keeps waiting for the breakdown, the melodrama, the tears. Anything. But Sam maintains a fairly even keel despite the constant pain and the fever and the overall fact of the thing, that his whole body is just…falling apart.

No, Sam doesn’t break down. What Sam does is talk.

Dean swears he’s learned more about his brother these past few months—past few weeks especially—than he has in years. He’s hearing about all sorts of things; stories from Sam’s time at Stanford. A bunch of tiny observations from old cases that Dean was never privy to. A fair amount of anecdotes of Sam hanging out with Cas.

This has to be the one thing Dean does not hate about the trials. They carefully avoid any topics that will hit too big of a nerve, and without that underlying tension, it’s…nice. In a way. It makes Dean feel like they’re young again, when Sam would look at him like he hung the whole damn galaxy and constantly be “Dean, guess what,” and, “Dean, listen to this.”

So, in a very weird way, Dean’s almost relaxed. He’s…not, not completely anyway. Can’t afford to let his guard down completely. But Sam seems…well, he’s handling everything really, really well, all things considered. It makes it easier for Dean to just take this time with his brother at face value.

On Monday, Sam’s fever spikes just enough to make him listless and miserable. Dean checks it almost obsessively, but it never gets into dangerous territory.

They watch Netflix in Sam’s room for a while. Eventually, Dean’s leaning against the headboard and Sam’s leaning against Dean, his head a heavy, warm weight on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean honestly has no idea what they’re watching. He’s busy thinking, planning, mapping out strategies. He cannot accept Sam’s impending doom yet, so the tv provides a nice backdrop for his brain to try to work out solutions.

There are end credits scrolling when Sam clears his throat, shifting against Dean. Dean bites his lip to keep from commenting on the wince that crosses Sam’s face; they’re both tired of the constant “you okay?”

“Think I found another thing I never told you,” Sam says quietly. His voice is hoarse; his throat is wrecked from all that hacking up blood (another thing Dean hates).

“Yeah?” Dean says. “You haven’t run out of things yet, huh?”

“Guess not.” Sam swallows. He’s quiet for a long moment.

Dean doesn’t say anything. First of all, recently they’ve spent just as much time sitting in silence as they have talking, and it somehow always manages to be comfortable, peaceful. Second of all, it’s clear that Sam’s thinking.

“Actually, uh…I-never mind,” Sam says, and begins to purposely avoid Dean’s gaze.

“Sam,” Dean says. “You seen our lives lately? You’ve been able to tell me all of your other stuff. If you think I’m gonna judge you, you got it wrong.”

Sam shakes his head. His voice is aiming for nonchalant, but comes out wobbly. “Nah, I just…Dean, I kinda hid this one from you on purpose.”

Dean looks at him for a moment. “Okay,” he says slowly. “This isn’t the first thing you’ve ever kept from me.”

“No, it’s…listen, never mind, it’s stupid,” Sam says, fiddling with the blanket on his lap, staring at it. Avoiding Dean.

Dean sighs through his nose. He takes a moment to just take stock of his little brother; his hair’s a mess, all tangled and scrunched from being smushed against Dean’s shoulder. Sam’s face is pale, wan, although his cheeks are studded with fever flush. Dean would bet good money that Sam’s eyes are bright, glassy, maybe a little forlorn.

“It’s not stupid, Sam,” Dean says after a moment. “You wanna tell me, I wanna hear it.”

“I, uh…It’s gonna change how you see me,” Sam says. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it won’t. Maybe it should? I’m not really sure.”

Dean just nods.

“Dean, how much do you know about sexuality?” Sam’s voice is quiet. Almost shy. Dean hasn’t heard his brother sound shy in, well, probably decades at this point.

“Uh,” Dean says. “It’s the…the straight-gay thing, right?”

Sam snorts. Shakes his head. Still isn’t looking at Dean. “Yeah, kind of. There’s a lot more to it than that.”

Dean nods again. After another beat of silence, he bounces his shoulder gently to get Sam’s attention. “Hey. Gigantor. That all you had to say?”

Sam shakes his head.

Another moment passes.

“Dean,” Sam says quietly. “I’m not straight.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “Kinda figured that’s where we were headed with this. You can leave it right there if you want, or you can elaborate. Up to you, kiddo.”

“Well,” Sam says. “I’m bisexual. So I like both guys and girls. And I’m asexual, which…can be a little harder to explain, but basically means I don’t experience sexual attraction.”

“Okay,” Dean says softly, reaching one hand over to sweep Sam’s bangs out of his face. “You wanna explain, I’m all ears.”

“It’s, ah…Well, kind of a scale?” Sam says, finally glancing up at Dean. “There’s lots of identities that fit into it, but I identify as graysexual, which is kind of, I don’t know, somewhere in the middle? It just means that for me, sexual attraction fluctuates. It’s fluid. It changes depending on circumstances sometimes and sometimes it just fluctuates by itself.”

Dean takes a moment to absorb as much of that as he can. “Okay,” he says. “I think I get it. I might ask you questions later, but I think I get it.”

Sam’s giving him an odd look. Dean doesn’t even quite know how to interpret this one; it’s part surprise, part caution, and part something else. Relief?

“What?”

“You…you’re just…you’re just gonna accept it? Just like that?” Sam whispers.

“What else am I gonna do?” Dean says, a little confused. “It’s _you_ , Sam. This is a part of who you are. I don’t need any more than that to accept it.”

They will both blame it on the fever later, but Sam’s eyes start to fill with tears. Just slightly. Just enough for a couple of them to fall.

Sam sits up from Dean’s shoulder then. “I didn’t think it’d be this easy,” he whispers. “I just…I needed you to know. Before I…I needed you to know before I’m gone.”

That’s a punch to Dean’s gut. “Sam…I’m glad you told me, but…why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because,” Sam says. “I couldn’t…Some people aren’t good about this stuff, Dean. I didn’t want you to, to…I don’t know, not accept me? Not want me around anymore? I mean, I tried to tell Dad before Stanford, that went real well.”

“You…you told Dad?” Dean murmurs.

Sam shrugs. “Tried to. He, uh, wasn’t very good about it. I’m surprised he never griped to you about it. Just another thing he got to add to his list of expectations I don’t live up to.”

“Hey, stop that,” Dean says. “Fuck Dad’s expectations. He’s not here. It’s just you and me. And for the record, Sam, I think you’re just fine the way you are.”

Sam just stares at Dean for a moment, eyes shiny with tears and fever, his whole body quivering.

Dean just reaches over and pulls him into a hug. Sam goes into it willingly, clings to Dean like his older brother’s his sole lifeline.

“Thank you, Dean,” he mumbles, voice a little watery.

“Love ya, Sammy,” Dean says. “Always have, always will.”

Dean hates many things about the trials; but he wouldn’t trade this time with Sam for anything in the world.


End file.
